


The sex paint taste test

by bitsandbobsandstuff



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Improvised Sex Toys, Pineapples, Pineapples really do that, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sex Shop, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsandbobsandstuff/pseuds/bitsandbobsandstuff
Summary: The moral of the story? Penis shaped items are weird and chocolate is always delicious. Also, come on Steve, warn a girl next time.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	The sex paint taste test

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt writing Steve as a main character...Steve is FUN. This story was also part of a challenge from Tumblr where every sentence had to be 10 words or less, which is way harder than I anticipated, but hopefully it works. :)

*****

Standing before the store, Steve pulls his hat low. Paces nervously for ten minutes. Rubs sweaty palms on his jeans. Finally striding forward, he grabs the front door and -

It swings open, spilling out a giggling group of women. Who are all carrying huge penis balloons.

 _Nope_.

Steve pivots and hurries away.

Crossing the street, he holes up next to a tree. Digging out his phone, he debates.

“Fuck it,” he croaks and punches in the SOS. He waits 13 seconds before the text chain lights up.

—

 **STEVE ROGERS** : AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!!!!!!!!!

 **SAM WILSON** : good morning Steve

 **STEVE ROGERS** : ASAP!!!!

 **SAM WILSON** : it’s valentine’s day Steve

 **STEVE ROGERS** : PLEASE!!!!!

 **BUCKY BARNES** : NO. We agreed this code was emergencies only

 **STEVE ROGERS** : EMERGENCY!!!!! 

**SAM WILSON** : but is it? Last time we assembled when you ran out of Cheetos

 **BUCKY BARNES** : and also when you deleted your DVR

 **SAM WILSON** : and also when your underwear got stuck in your zipper

 **BUCKY BARNES** : basically you’re a liar Steve

 **STEVE ROGERS** : IT’S REAL I SWEAR PLEASE!!!!!

 **BUCKY BARNES** : NO. I just made a grilled cheese. Bucky vetos assembling

 **SAM WILSON** : did you use that fancy cheese I bought?

 **BUCKY BARNES** : …

 **SAM WILSON** : THAT WAS FUCKING MINE

 **BUCKY BARNES** : Bucky vetos Sam

 **SAM WILSON** : bUcKy VeToS sAm

 **BUCKY BARNES** : murder

 **STEVE ROGERS** : I’M HAVING A CRISIS AVENGERS FUCKING ASSEMBLE!!!!!

 **SAM WILSON** : STOP YELLING STEVE

 **BUCKY BARNES** : YEAH STEVE IT HURTS OUR FEELINGS

 **SAM WILSON** : WE’RE FRAGILE

 **BUCKY BARNES** : SO FRAGILE

 **STEVE ROGERS** : I’m literally begging

 **SAM WILSON** : Damn Rogers. Fine. Where are you

 **STEVE ROGERS** : West Village. Charles St and 7th.

 **SAM WILSON** : we’ll be there in 10

 **BUCKY BARNES** : after I finish my grilled cheese

 **SAM WILSON** : murder

*****

“Why are you hiding behind a parking meter?”

Sam’s voice startles him and Steve whips around. A red flush crawls up his neck and he swallows. Hard.

“I’m not hiding. I’m - observing.”

Sam glances at the storefront Steve’s awkwardly ignoring. “ _The Pleasure Chest_ ” is stenciled on a cherry red awning. He purses his lips.

“You’re observing a porn shop?”

“Kinda creepy there, Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky says loudly. A woman walking by glances over and Bucky smiles brightly.

Steve considers slugging him.

“Hey, pay attention,” Sam waves a hand in his face.”Why are you observing a porn shop? Help me understand why you made me put on pants.”

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day. _Today_ ,” Steve says exasperatedly. How are his friends this oblivious?

“So? You forgot to buy your girl a gift?”

“ _No_ ,” Steve grits out.

“You…want to buy yourself a gift?”

“For fuck’s sake, _no_ ,” Steve growls, teeth grinding. His eyebrows do that American psycho thing they do.

Sam and Bucky glance at each other. There’s a silent discussion before Bucky slowly nods. Crossing his arms, he squints at Steve.

“You gotta give us more. Explain why we’re at a porn shop.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly.

“Seriously?”

Bucky’s jaw drops at the tone. Annoyed as hell, he throws up his hands.

“How on earth are you frustrated with _us_ right now?”

Steve’s eyebrows get angrier.

“ _Because._ For Valentine’s Day she’s making us dinner,” he hisses. “And I’m supposed to plan dessert and - entertainment.”

“I fail to see the problem,” Sam says.

At this point, Steve might drop-kick his best friends. What else does he have to explain? How much clearer can he possibly _be_?

“ _God dammit I have no fucking ideas_. And it’s _tonight_. She gave me one job and I got nothing. This is my last resort.“ He points at the store in sheer panic. 

To their credit, neither Sam nor Bucky laugh. Knowing expressions arrive followed by simultaneous nods. Bucky pats his shoulder consolingly.

“Right, okay. We forgot penis shaped objects make you extra awkward. Which is strange since you _have_ one, but anyway.”

“Yeah well mine isn’t two feet long and neon pink. It’s _weird_.”

“No, it’s awesome,” Bucky corrects. Looping an arm around Steve, he propels him forward. Reluctantly, Sam follows.

At the front door, Steve balks one more time.

“Maybe I just make her a sex coupon or something? And buy her some pineapple? Or eat some pineapple _for_ her? That’s actually pretty romantic when you think about it. Right?”

Baffled, Sam scratches his forehead. “Why would you do that?”

“Oh, I know,” Bucky pipes up. He points at his dick and then finger guns Steve. “Pineapple. Makes it taste better. Down below.”

Steve nods furiously. Sam just stares at Bucky.

“Why do you know that?”

“Hey, I read things!”

Shaking his head, Sam wrenches the door open. Silently pointing, he waits for Steve. Shoulders drooping in defeat, Steve finally shuffles inside.

The store surprises him. 

Chattering groups of people browse the aisles, clearly embarrassment free. Displays are peppered throughout, bold headlines showcasing products and sales. Music plays quietly over the speakers and Steve’s ears perk. He recognizes Lizzo and desperately wishes he could relate. Because he is most definitely _not_ that bitch right now. 

Slinking down the first aisle, he attempts to blend in. Honestly, it’s not the sex that bothers him. Steve Rogers is pro-sex all the way, no question. Sex is great. Sex is fun. Sex is _amazing_. And sex with _you_? Honest to god, there’s nothing he’d rather be doing. He likes being naked. He likes _you_ being naked even more. He likes watching porn. Kind of loves watching it with you.

Basically all the dirty things one can do, he loves doing. _With you_.

Maybe he should come more often, he muses. He already sees ten items you might like. 

Maybe you would come with him? That could be fun. Maybe a date night? Or your birthday? Or maybe -

Turning the corner, he smacks into a gigantic inflatable penis.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” he hisses, swatting it.

Maybe not.

Fake penises are the _worst_.

Sam grabs his arm. The penis still sways gently, mocking him.

“Focus, man. What do you -”

The sound of a crash echoes through the store. Everyone turns to look at Bucky standing frozen. Scattered at his feet, are 20 bottles of lube. Further away, a pink dildo wiggles on the floor, quietly buzzing.

He kicks the dildo at Steve and smirks. Steve ducks behind Sam, who seriously considers walking out.

“I swear to god, you two are fucking _awful_. Now focus _._ What vibe are you going for? Fun? Romantic? Sexy? Narrow it down here.”

Steve takes a deep breath and ignores the pink dildo. He looks around the store.

“I guess - sexy? No, fun. No, sexy! Wait. Maybe sexy fun?”

Still gripping his elbow, Sam steers him toward the back. They navigate around Bucky, buried in bottles of lube. Slip past the leather goods. Turn right at butt plugs. Left at nipple clamps and tassels.

They stop at a cheery display with cursive writing.

“Voila, lover boy.” 

##  **_Edible Pleasures_ **

Steve gawks, the wall of color stunning him speechless. Rainbow colored penis lollipops. Pastel hued candy bras and dick pouches. Strawberry gummy cock rings. Blueberry-flavored deep throat numbing spray. A fruit basket of edible underwear.

It’s like the farmer’s market of porn. 

“This all looks disgusting,” Steve wrinkles his nose. He picks up a box of fruity condoms. “I don’t want her to vomit.”

“You’re making this too hard,” Sam sighs. “Just find something you’d both enjoy. It’s supposed to be fun, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mutters. Focusing on the shelves, he looks and looks and looks. Finally, he sees something interesting.

An array of flavored body paint lines the third shelf. Chocolate, vanilla, coconut, peanut butter. Strawberry, bubblegum, marshmallow, pineapple. A veritable _pornacopia_ of options. He spies a jar of paintbrushes and the lightbulb buzzes.

“Painting. Sexy painting,” he looks up excitedly. “Yes! Perfect. I can do that, right? Easy.”

He scans labels, debating flavor profiles with a critical eye. Settling on chocolate fudge, he grabs a handful of paintbrushes. This is perfect, no contest. Steve is an artist, you love chocolate - it’s a win-win. 

“Nice,” Bucky comes up behind them. Clutching a basket loaded with edible underwear, he grins. “Sounds like an A+ night of hanky-panky.”

They spend the next twenty minutes arguing about edible underwear. Finally, they pay and hurry from the store, heading home.

Steve tucks the bag of body paint under his arm. His ears are still fire engine red.

Bucky pulls out a fresh pair of edible watermelon underwear. He takes a huge bite, chewing with his mouth open.

Sam decides to walk _far_ ahead of them. He’d prefer no one realize they’re friends, thanks. 

*****

Singing under your breath, you scan the kitchen. 

Piles of pots and pans and spatulas litter the counters. A bundle of burned potatoes are stuffed in the garbage. Empty boxes of butter sit in the sink. The glass of wine in your hand was _necessary_. Pinterest recipes are nearly always a disaster. In the end though, it seemed to work.

Hopefully? Although it won’t matter, you think. Steve eats literally anything you put in front of him. He’s good for your ego that way. 

The sudden sound of a key grates at the door. Looking over, your heart thumps. Even after all this time, you can’t help but smile.

Steve Rogers always arrives like a whirlwind.

Brown bag in hand, he bursts through your front door. Tossing the bag on the couch, he bounds over. When he wraps you into a bear hug, you laugh.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmurs. Full lips trace a sweet path down your neck. What a nice distraction. With no thought, your head tips back. 

“Hello handsome,” you breathe. “Keep distracting me and this food will burn.”

Propping his chin on your shoulder, Steve inspects the work. 

Kobe beef steak and scallops in white wine sauce. Green beans glistening in butter and coarse salt. Peruvian purple potatoes, their skins a pop of color.

Steve feels his mouth water. For you _and_ the food.

“You’re my favorite person. You know that?”

His declaration is punctuated with a heartfelt ass squeeze. Ticklish, you shoo his hand away.

“Hands off my ass, save it for later. Go set the table.”

“Yes, mam,” he says with a grin.

Moments later, full plates in hand, you sit. Quiet jazz fills the apartment, candles flickering on every surface. Legs tangle beneath the table, a simple need for contact. 

The clink and scrape of silverware fades as you talk. About a collection of Middle Eastern poetry you bought. About the new coffee shop Steve discovered. About the daffodils finally on sale at Trader Joe’s. About a dirty joke Steve saw on a bathroom wall. Everything is so _easy_ , when you’re together. Nothing ever feels rushed or forced.

And Steve always gazes at you with that look. The one that makes your heart skip. Other people get American psycho eyebrows, but not you. Nothing but pure love from Steve Rogers. That fact makes you happy.

Tracing your fingers along his wrist, you smile.

“What was in that bag you brought?” In the dim apartment, you think he blushes. When he clears his throat, you hear a bashful waver. 

“Something fun for dessert.” 

“Mysterious. I like it,” you say. Stretching your foot, you nudge his balls with your toes. “I think I’m done with dinner. Maybe we move on to dessert?”

Like you have to tell him twice.

He’s so ready for this. It’s gonna be _good_. This might be his best idea ever.

Throwing his napkin, he jumps up. Taking your hand, he tugs eagerly toward the bedroom. As he passes, the brown bag is snatched up. 

More candles fill the cozy room, shadows bouncing. Turning to face you, Steve opens his bag. A black blindfold appears and he winks, motioning you around. He secures it carefully and the world goes dark.

“No peeking,” he whispers in your ear. “Here we go.”

In no time, he has you naked. Which is your favorite thing to be, with Steve Rogers. Warm lips find yours, and his kiss steals your breath. Gathering you close, he walks you carefully backward. Legs bumping the bed, you tumble into the plush pillows.

“Okay, just give me one minute,” Steve breathes. Snuggling comfortably, you wait. You hear him disappear, back to the kitchen. The whir of the microwave briefly sounds, before he returns.

“Steve? What are we doing?”

He says nothing, just hums. The sound of his belt clinks, clothes thrown aside. The bed dips as he settles beside you. Warm hands stroke reverently down your arms. Roughened fingertips brush over your nipples, adding a light pinch. You arch into the feel, soft moans spilling free.

Steve Rogers has magic hands. Beautiful hands. _Talented_ hands. God, the things he can do with those hands. It turns you to putty beneath them. 

Tipping your head sideways, you inhale deeply. And an unexpected scent fills your lungs.

“Wait - what’s that smell?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers, cheekily tweaking your nipple.

You feel him sit up on his knees. There’s a pause, and something warm drizzles onto your skin.

It feels smooth. Lotion maybe? Some kind of scented body oil? Steve pours more, and whatever this is feels _good_. Along your collarbone, over your breasts, circling your belly button. It must be body oil. Chocolate body oil. It smells so divine, you want to eat it. 

There’s a long pause and then you feel something new. Something light and feathery. It gathers up the liquid, brushing down your ribcage.

The reaction is instantaneous.

Goosebumps erupt, your entire body shivering and twitching.

“Tickles,” you snort. “What _is_ that?”

“It’s something sexy and romantic. Now sit still.”

“Okay, okay.”

Another pause before he keeps going. Pressing your arm up, mouthing down the delicate skin. Smooth, warm liquid silk drips above your elbow. Such a dizzying, sensual feeling. Droplets like warm summer rain on your skin. It makes you relax.

Except -

That feathery feeling reappears. Touches your arm.

And you _laugh_. Loudly.

Under his breath, you hear Steve mumbling.

“Sorry Steve, I’m sorry. Okay. _Okay_. I’m good, I promise. I swear. All good.”

Gathering your composure, you nod decisively, shaking out your arms. There, that’s much better.

Steve moves lower. Sliding down your body, warm breaths between your legs. Fingers massage your thighs, and you relax into his touch. Legs splay wider, craving the feel of something more. A breathless pause and he complies. Teasing licks, a gentle rub of his fingers. The laughter disappears, replaced by an aching need. Reaching blindly, trembling fingers find his hair, urging him on. He spreads your legs further, his mouth moving against you. Faster and faster and _faster_ , until he pulls away.

Breathing hard, you grumble in disappointment. Nerves taut, waiting for his next move. 

Another pause, and then that warm liquid feel appears again. It slicks the inside of your thigh, that sensitive skin. And suddenly, you know. You know _exactly_ what will happen next.

“Steve, wait - “

The feathery thing touches the liquid, swirling along your thigh. And you flinch. Well, no - it’s not really a flinch. This is a full body spasm. The kind that could, frankly, knock someone unconscious. 

Flailing wildly, your knees involuntarily slam closed. Both of them. They connect with something hard and scratchy.

Something that feels like a _face_.

“Ow,” Steve grunts. He fumbles something, a thunk against your hip. “ _Shit_.”

Heat drenches your skin and Steve swears again. Scrambling up, you rip off the blindfold. Blinking owlishly, eyes adjust and you find him. Rubbing his jaw ruefully, he sits naked between your legs. Splashed across the bedsheets are dark streaks of something wet. Horrified, your mind instantly screams _blood_.

Then you see the jar.

“Is that - it was a _paintbrush_. And _body paint_.” Sniffing appreciatively, you savor the scent. Warm chocolate fudge. Swiping a finger along your thigh, you catch a taste. “Why in the world are we wasting this?”

Twirling the paintbrush between his fingers, Steve begins to laugh. Flopping face first into the pillows, his entire body shakes. 

“I was trying to be sexy,” his voice is muffled. “Found it at a porn shop in the Village.”

“Oh, babe. You went into a porn shop? Were you overwhelmed by the penises?” Stroking his hair consolingly, you scratch his scalp. “That was really brave of you.”

Steve snorts. Rolling onto his back, he squints up.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“I would _never_ ,” you declare. “Penises are very weird. Except yours. Your penis is great.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says drily.

“But this was a great idea, I loved it. I’m just super ticklish and, well, you know - chocolate.”

Steve shakes his head with an indulgent smile. Shoving sideways off the bed, he scoops you up. Chocolate smears everywhere when you wiggle against him.

“You have a chocolate problem.”

“Wrong. Chocolate is the _solution_.“

“I have another jar,” he says, hugging you tight. “Maybe we go shower? And then do a formal sex paint taste test?”

“Agree. This is my kind of romance Rogers.“

*****

Fresh, clean, and chocolate free, you flop on the couch. Netflix plays quietly in the background, as you curl together. Steve presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

He tastes like chocolate. _Delicious_.

He hands you a spoon. Even _more_ delicious.

“This stuff isn’t half bad,” you say.

“I know, right? Might go back for more. There were lots of flavors.”

“Maybe I’ll come along,” you offer, spooning up a bite. The chocolate paint is tacky when it cools, like frosting. Smacking your lips, you shrug. “We could find some other fun things.”

“Yes please,” Steve declares, paint streaked along his chin. Leaning over, you lick it off. “Never porn shopping with Bucky and Sam again.”

“I wonder if they had pineapple flavor,” you say. Dipping your spoon into the jar, you pause thoughtfully.

“Actually they did,” Steve confirms. “Dare I ask why?”

Smothering a laugh, you set your spoon aside. Bemused, Steve leans back when you crawl into his lap. Playful fingers dance over his belly, slipping inside his sweats.

He sucks in a breath.

“So, I read this article -”

*****


End file.
